The First Time I
by blaysin
Summary: A random series of drabbles consisting of Blaine and Cooper's First. Rated: M, just in case. There will be an M rating in certain drabbles.
1. The First Time I: Ever Shaved

___A random series of drabbles consisting of Blaine and Cooper's First. _

_This POV: Blaine_

…**Ever shaved.**

The first time I ever shaved, I was twelve-years-old. My father didn't teach me how, like most father's do with their sons. No, that rite of passage had foregone him because he was out of town on one of his many business trips.

No, my father didn't teach me how to shave. But Cooper did. And I'm glad of it.

I was surviving the brutal tail end of puberty, and my face was showing signs of it. What hadn't really been there the night before, suddenly was the next morning. I could only gape at myself in the mirror as I took in the horror before me.

Stubble.

Okay, so it wasn't really stubble. Not yet anyway. It wasn't what anyone would call a five o'clock shadow. It was more like a three o'clock in the morning awkward dirt stain that had only been cleaned in a few places.

I probably looked crazy, standing in the middle of the hallway that led to the kitchen, staring into the mirror there as I rubbed my hand over the new development on my face. It was fascinating how rough my skin was, even against my calloused, guitar playing fingers. I could hear the scrape as my fingertips dragged over my chin.

"Awww, little Blainey," came Cooper's drawl from the kitchen.

"COOPER!" came my screeching, unevenly toned voice. Yea, my voice hadn't dropped yet. It was still a little high in places. It caused my skin to blush pink.

I'd forgotten he was here, home from school for the weekend. If I'd remembered he was here, I would have moved my awkward exploration of my face to the upstairs bathroom. The _locked_ upstairs bathroom.

"Looks like my little B has some hairs on his chiny, chin, chin," Cooper said with far too much amusement in his voice.

"Shut up, Coop," I tried to say in an even voice, only for it to come out awkwardly. The pink finally reached my face and I let my head drop, wanting the hallway to swallow me up. Why did all the most embarrassing things in my life have to happen in front of Cooper?

"Aw, come on, B. You know I'm joking, right?" Cooper walked towards me, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder.

I immediately jerked away.

"B? Blaine? Blainey?" His voice was affectionate, filled with regret that he'd made fun of me. Something rare for him, I knew. "Hey, don't be like that. What's wrong?"

"This is what's wrong!" I shrieked, pointing to my chin. "I look stupid! I look like someone spread dirt on my face and I have to go to school Monday and I'm going to get made fun of and dad's not home to show me how to get rid of it and I don't know what to do!" My hysterics almost had me in tears. I knew from sex-ed classes that teenage girls had a lot of emotions; I never expected that to be the same for me.

I would later on realize how embarrassing my high pitched tirade was. If the wide-eyed, shocked look on Cooper's face was anything to by, I'd just either a) made a complete, pubescent fool out of myself or b) scared the living daylights out my older brother. The latter was a lot more impossible than the former when it came to Cooper.

But Cooper, sensing my distress and, let's face it, Cooper was normally horrible at that where I was concerned, just ran a soothing hand down my back.

"Come on, B, let's teach you how to shave," was the only thing he said. It wasn't judging or condescending or belittling. It was just my big brother, stepping in to replace our ever missing father, to show me one factor on how to be a man as best he could.

He guided me up to our Jack and Jill bathroom. We used to share it all the time, arguing over who could use it first. Those moments were less and less now that he was at college, but moments like these, when he was home for a random weekend, we shared it again.

He flipped the toilet seat down, pointing to it. And really, when did Cooper start pointing so much at everything. My brother was odd sometimes. "Sit," he simply said. The gentleness hadn't left his voice yet.

I sat, watching his every move like a hawk. He leaned against the sink counter, his hip perched on the marble counter top.

"Now, most guys shave after getting out of the shower. It has something to do with pores and skin being more relaxed I think. It gets a closer shave. Now this," he reached into a black travel bag that was only there when he visited, pulling out a can of Gillette shaving cream "is invaluable. It gives you that nice, clean shave feel. And it smells nice. Ladies love that."

I gulped, my already prominent Adam's apple bobbing. I wasn't 100% sure yet, but I was pretty sure I didn't care what the ladies loved. I wanted to tell him that, right then, but I didn't get the chance; Cooper had already popped the cap on the shave gel and was putting a nice dollop in his palms.

He pushed my head back gently, spreading the stuff all over where my facial hair was, and would be, coming in. The smell was interesting. It wasn't pleasantly fragrant like our mother's shave gel, but sharper. It almost had a bitter tang to it. But it wasn't a bad smell, it smelt manly. I wondered if this was what a man smelt like. Cooper didn't smell like that, though, and he was twenty-two. Twenty-two was a man, right?

"Now this," he reached into the bag again, pulling out a black and silver razor, "is a razor. We'll go out and get you one today. They key to this, and this is very important, so remember this." I'm sure my eyes went wide, willing to soak up this very important wisdom Cooper was about to bestow upon me. "You need to buy replacement blades and change them out often, if not you'll get nicks and cuts and have to put toilet paper on the bloody spots. And your skin is too nice to nick and cut. For models like this one like this, the blade pops off." He demonstrated, pushing a small black button on the back of the razor that popped the blade off. He held it out, showing me how to put it back on.

"Now you try."

He handed the razor to me and I pushed that button. The blade popped off, but I didn't catch it, making it fall to the floor with a small, plastic click. Cooper just laughed, but it wasn't a harsh laugh. It was strangely encouraging, almost as if he was telling me it was okay. That he'd done the same thing when he was learning to shave. He reached down and handed the blade to me.

It took me a few times, and Cooper had to steady my small hands with his large ones a few times, but I eventually heard the click that told me I'd connected the blade to the razor body. The smile on my face was soon matched by Cooper's proud one.

"Now," Cooper said, taking the razor from my hand and tilting my face up, "you shave down your face and up your neck, just like in the commercials."

He dragged the razor down my skin, making an interesting scraping noise that felt strangely good against my face. Cooper was careful with me, making sure he didn't mark my skin with razor cuts. I'd seen my father shave, and he was never this careful with himself. He was always fast and quick. It was like Cooper was trying not to break me, like he was afraid of hurting me and having to explain to our father what he'd done.

This was, after all, my father's job to do, not Cooper's. Cooper had taken this rite of passage away from our father. But like I said, I'm glad of it. I wasn't exactly close to my father, I was closer to Cooper. And to have Cooper show me how to shave was almost intimate. It was bonding for us, something we hardly ever got to do since he moved to the college dorms. I'd see even less of him when he went to New York to become an actor.

When he was done, Cooper smiled, like he'd accomplished something huge. He had, he'd not put a single scratch into my skin. That felt really soft as he washed it with a damp cloth of the stray shaving cream.

"Well, would you look at that? My little kid brother cleans up pretty nice once he shaves. Stand up and look at that handsome mug, would you? I didn't do half bad."

I shot up, looking into the mirror to see Cooper's handiwork. I examined my face, the tip of my tongue poking out between my too-large-for-my-face teeth. I reached up to rub my rough chin. But it wasn't rough, it was smooth. Really smooth. I smiled, wide, and looked to Cooper.

There were no words between us. There didn't need to be. Cooper's smile soon matched my own as the moment surrounded us. We both knew that our father wouldn't be there for a lot of my journey into becoming a teenager, or even a man. Even Cooper wouldn't be around lot. But we both knew, in that moment, that he would show me everything he could, while he could. I would be alright just so long as Cooper was in my corner, guiding me where my father wouldn't be able to.

It was the first time I had ever shaved. And I wouldn't have had anyone else ever teach me.


	2. The First Time I: Ever Babysat Blaine

The First Time I…

_A random series of drabbles consisting of Blaine and Cooper's Firsts._

_This POV: Cooper_

…**Ever Babysat Blaine.**

"Mom, seriously, he's three, what could go wrong?" I exhaled loudly as I was cut off by my mother. Again.

"Don't let him get near any sharp objects," she said, listing off a large amount of things that, in a hundred years, probably wouldn't go down tonight.

Seriously, who did she think I was? Edward Scissorhands?

"God, mom, what sort of…"

"And don't let him eat just junk food."

"Mom, I'm not that stup…"

"And his bath, you have to bath him. Don't you dare leave that bathroom when he's in the tub."

"You make it sound like I'm going to turn it into a hot tu…"

"And wash behind his ears; make sure he brushes his teeth."

"Oh my God. MOM!"

"And he's still potty training, so you have to sit him on the toilet every hour. Because he's such a big boy, aren't you little Blainey?" She looked over my shoulder at the toddler sitting, unaware of the conversation, on a blanket in the middle of the living room. "You're such a good big boy, in your Batman underoos, aren't you sweetie?"

"MOOOOM!"

"NADI!"

My father, Adam, and I had both spoken at the same time. He was a gray-haired, gentle looking, tall man, standing a little over six-foot, and was towering over my small, Asian mother. The look on his face was gentle, amused and had just a hint of annoyance.

"They'll be fine. Cooper is thirteen. We let him stay alone by himself all the time. He'll be fine with Blaine," he reassured her.

We normally had a babysitter, Bethany, a girl who was a little bit older than me. She was supposed to be here half an hour ago but had called at the last minute saying she wouldn't be able to make it. She wasn't feeling well and didn't want to get Blaine sick. I was a little frustrated because she was pretty, with long blonde wavy hair and greenish-gold eyes that smiled when she laughed and a row of pretty white teeth and boobs and… I'm digressing.

Bethany wasn't going to make it. Drat.

My mother wanted to cancel their date. But at my father's urging, decided to go ahead and go, letting me babysit for the first time ever.

"Nadi," he had spoken, "it's travelling Broadway's Phantom of the Opera in Columbus. We have front row tickets. It's Phantom of the Opera. You LOVE Phantom of the Opera. We've been planning this for months, Nadi. We even have reservations at Larkin's."

I watched as my mother contemplated it. Heavily. She took one look at me and her chest heaved. I knew that motion. She was giving in. That was why I was currently standing in the entrance hallway getting a rulebook handed at me where my baby brother was concerned like I hadn't known the guy for three years. Three whole years! Blaine and I, we went back for ages!

"Mom, I'll be fine. You're going to be late."

My father started pulling her arm and I started pushing her out the door, much to her indignation. She was still giving me directions as they were leaving. "There's a twenty on the counter for food. You call it in, but don't answer the door without checking, okay? There are people out there who can do horrible things to you. When they get here, aim the pepper spray at them so they know not to mess with my baby boys. There's fruit in the kitchen for him to snack on if he gets fussy and there's a fire extinguisher under the paper towel rack!"

"Okay, mom. I'll make sure to get arrested for assault on a delivery guy with mace and if the fruit catches fire, I'll know how to put it out," I said as my father shut the door. My mother's last face at me didn't look amused. But really, I got my attitude from her. She shouldn't complain.

"Call me if you need anything! His bedtime is at seven sharp!" she shrieked from behind the door.

"Really," I muttered to myself. "It's not like I'm going to kill you, am I?" I asked Blaine.

He was still sitting on the blanket with his brightly colored building blocks building the Leaning Tower of What-The-Hell-Is-That-a-Snake-On-Wheels? Oh yea, tonight was going to be easy. Really easy. I plopped down on the couch, turning the TV on to something that wouldn't get me in trouble if Blaine picked up on the words. I was just getting relaxed when impossibly big hazel eyes turned up at me accompanied by a cheeky, small-toothed smile.

"Coopah, I hungie." He patted his belly for emphasis.

"Alright, buddy," I slipped down next to him and started playing with his snake slash building slash car thing. "What do you want, Squirt? Tai, Chinese or pizza?"

"PITA!" Blaine shrieked at the top of his lungs.

"Give me one second." I ruffled Blaine's hair as I got up to get the cordless to dial the pizza place. After ordering, pepperoni and pineapple, I suddenly piped up about something. "Um, could you warn the delivery guy for me? Tell him to push the doorbell three times and not to be alarmed by the can of pepper spray in his face. My mom is crazy." The girl on the other end of the line laughed, torn between wondering if I was serious and being amused.

While we were waiting, I picked Blaine up and settled him on my hip, carrying him over to the kitchen and opening the fridge. "Alright, Squirt, what do you want to drink?"

He reached out, trying to point to grape juice. "Dat one!" Purple. Grape. Juice. Mistake number one.

I sat Blaine in his chair so I could set out paper plates and fill his sippy cup up. "See, I'm not so bad at this, am I, Blainers? I totally know how to babysit you."

"Coopah not bad!" he agreed.

It occurred to me that he probably didn't even know what I was saying to him. "You just tell mom and dad that, okay? Tell them how cool I am because if I do a good job they'll pay me and I can get that new leather jacket I want."

It wasn't long before the doorbell was ringing. Three times, just like I'd said. I picked the twenty up, along with the pepper spray and made my way to the door. I looked through the viewfinder to make sure it was really the pizza guy, opening the door when I saw it was. I aimed the can towards the man, who didn't look amused.

"Sorry, crazy mother," I said, as if it would explain everything. I handed over the twenty, not expecting change because these poor people had to deal with crazy said mother. I took the pizza, giving one more apologetic look, before shutting the door.

"Pita here?" Blaine asked as I sat the big box down.

I knew he wouldn't eat that much, so I only gave him one slice, making sure to cut it up into smaller pieces for him because "don't you dare let him choke on anything, Cooper!"

"Is that okay, Blaine? Need anything else?"

"Nope, nope, nope," he replied, shaking his head, sending his curls flying wildly.

I sat down, taking a few slices for myself. That's when what I call The Mess Catastrophe happened. I knew Blaine was messy when he ate, I'd seen it plenty of times before. But mom or dad were always there to clean him up afterwards. But seeing Blaine tear the pizza and juice up myself, I was horrified. Soon, his pristine white shirt was covered in purple grape juice, pepperoni and pineapple bits, and pizza sauce. What wasn't on his shirt was on his face and even crumpled in his hair. And really, how was that even possible for a three-year-old to get pizza in his hair?

I managed to get two slices into my stomach before Blaine stopped eating, obviously full. I sighed, not looking forward to the arduous task of cleaning my little brother up. "Alright, Blainers. Let's get you in the bath and cleaned up."

I realized my mistake the moment I said the dreaded word. Bath. I looked down just long enough for Blaine to get down off his chair and run away in the direction of the stairs. "Hey, B! Get back here!" It only took me three long strides before I had the messy, screaming little guy in my arms. "SHIT!" I winced and nearly dropped him as he landed a good kick to my balls on accident.

"You said a BAAAAAD WORD!" Blaine giggled, despite the wiggling he was doing in an attempt to get away.

I knew I was going to get it later if Blaine repeated that. Hopefully, he wouldn't tell our parents that I had cursed. I'd be grounded forever. And by forever, I meant forever and a bar of soap in my mouth.

By the time I got Blaine's squirmy little body naked and into the tub, I was just as covered in pizza and juice as he was. He wasn't too happy about the fact that I was scrubbing him down with a wash cloth, removing all the filth he'd required eating. He kept giving me dirty looks and splashing water on me. I was soaking wet, wondering if he gave mom this much trouble or if it was just me. Was I doing something wrong? Or did Blaine just hate getting baths this much.

He squirmed away from me when I started scrubbing his face, whining that I was hurting him. "Blaine, I'm not hurting you! Stop being so difficult!" I screamed as I dumped water over his head, trying to get the suds off his body.

His lower lip pushed out, staring at me with those big hazel eyes that were quickly glossing over with tears. "I waan mumah!"

"Mom's not here, Blaine," I replied. And really, it amazed me how easy it was to understand what Blaine was saying when strangers had no idea what he was babbling on about.

"Mumah!"

The eyes were getting bigger. Oh god, those big hazel eyes were getting bigger and looking at me and wanting to know why I didn't have a better answer than our mom not being there and the tears were starting to fall and oh god, what to do?

"I WANT MUMAH!" Blaine shrieked at the top of his lungs. Tears started falling from his eyes openly now, staining his cheeks a bright red, and little sobs were escaping his small pink lips.

My heart lurched in my chest. The tears and the eyes and the pitiful sounds combined with the fact that he was so small and naked and vulnerable made my chest hurt something horrible. I couldn't explain it, but I wanted to comfort this little person, my precious baby brother, that was depending on me for everything right now because he couldn't do it himself.

My heart was breaking, I realized. I wondered if this was what it felt like for a parent to see their child go through something horrible. I'd never felt anything like it before. It physically hurt to see my little brother crying. I didn't know what to do, so I just grabbed a fluffy towel and picked him up, swaddling him as tight as I could without hurting him. I pulled him to my chest, still dripping wet where the towel wasn't covering him, and bounced him. I tucked his head under my chin and ran my fingers through his damp curls.

"Shhh, it's okay," I reassured him, kissing his crown over and over because it was the only thing I could think of to do. "It's okay, Cooper is here. Cooper is going to take care of you." I did this until the small tremors in his body started to ebb and I couldn't feel anymore tears flowing down my neck. I looked down at him, seeing that he had cried himself into a near exhausted slumber.

I carried him like that, cradled in my arms like he was precious cargo, into his room to put him in his pajamas. He was so tired he didn't even fuss as I maneuvered him into his favorite Batman PJ's. When I started to leave, I heard him whimpering and I was back at his side so fast I felt my entire body protest.

"Peas don go," he said in a small, pathetic voice. His little arms reached out for me and I knew, right then, that I would never be able to deny him when he did that to me. No matter how old we got because it was such an innocent and pure gesture. I'd always go into those outstretched arms because he needed me and I wanted to be there to comfort him. I lay down with him, my feet dangling over the end of his 'big boy bed.' Which was only about four feet long and still had a half railing on it so he wouldn't fall out at night.

I lay down on my back. Soon, our earlier position was mimicked. His head found the hollow of my neck and made a home there. My arms came up, holding him to me in a protective half hug.

I don't remember exactly when I fell asleep, but I do know the next thing I remember was a flash of bright light in m face. My eyes snapped open, only to see the sleep induced blur of my father standing over us when a camera in his hand. "Dad?"

"Hey, Coop. Sorry about that." The man actually sounded guilty. "I couldn't pass this image up, though. Black mail for you guy's first prom dates and what not."

I groaned, realizing that Blaine was still nestled securely to my chest. He'd drooled on me, if the wet spot on my neck was anything to go by. My mom, who was standing close to my dad with tears in her eyes, gently plucked Blaine off my chest. It took everything in me not to snatch him back, keep him safe, make sure he got a full night's sleep because he's so small and needs all the sleep he can get. I missed the warmth when he was gone, it felt like he belonged there and was torn painfully away from a place he belonged all along. A piece of me had been taken away.

My dad reached down, pulling me up to my feet and guiding me towards my room. "But Blaine," I said sleepily.

Dad knew what I meant by that and rubbed my back in comforting circles. "Your mom is putting him to bed, he's fine."

He put me to bed, tucking me in, sensing that I'd had a rough night. He ran his hands through my hair after kissing my forehead. Just when he was about to leave, I stopped him.

"Dad?"

"Yea, son?"

"I'm never, ever having kids."

I could hear my dad laugh. "That's good to know, Cooper. That's good to know."


End file.
